The Cephalopod
by Ledabuhr
Summary: The origin of the 43rd's octopus sigil.


Author's Note: This fic was written for Vorastrix and Meredyth's birthdays, which fall within days of each other in February. It's an origin story of such and relates the tale of how the Boisterous Few adopted a kraken (or octopus, whichever way you interpret it ;) ) as their sigil. This tale takes place very early in The Few's timeline.

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><p>Spots danced across the General's vision as the tentacle around her ribcage tightened again. The sea water stung her eyes, but the tentacle was smooth like snake skin. Leda struggled to keep her eyes open, to stay conscious. A girlish scream startled her; when had she closed her eyes?<p>

"Leda! Are you al-" Seishougen was cut off as the tentacle tightened around his chest. In a vain attempt to free her, the mage gasped out a familiar word of power, but his strength was waning. The frost bolts missed their mark and the fur on Leda's cheek turned white as one flew dangerously close.

Her eyes had slipped shut again, but she was reminded of her current predicament when the tentacle tightened yet again and she was flung rapidly upwards in its grasp. Her stomach flew up into her throat and her head spun. The world went black and Leda knew no more.

Had the Forsaken mage known what his day would end up like, its likely Vorastrix wouldn't have left the Undercity. But as clairvoyance was not a particular talent of his, he shuffled up the zeppelin tower like usual and crowded onto the less than stable aircraft with all the other commuters. He sipped casually at his tea (black) and read the paper (The Lordaeron Times), hardly noticing when the former slopped all over the later.

The sun was just rising in Durotar and the whole landscape was aflame in its light. The mage carefully folded up his paper and slipped his empty mug into the small pack at his side before falling into step with the crowd down the tower. He had considered teleporting himself this morning, but the 43rd was receiving new orders today. One never knew how much strength they'd need for new orders and cross-Maelstrom teleportation was rather taxing.

The zeppelin had been early, so Vorastrix took his time meandering through Orgrimmar leaning heavily on his staff. "The weather must be changing," he thought to himself, "my knees have been aching since we landed." He shook his head and sighed before plodding on past the auction house and the buzz of commerce that nearly lured him inside. Another time.

By the time he reached the 43rd's barracks in the back of the Valley of Honor it was nearly breakfast time. He nodded hello to Zeb'rinnu, who was putting out Fuso'beah's breakfast of raw something-or-other near the lake. The little mage peeked around the doorway into the kitchen/dining room that made up the bottom floor of their tower-home. His hunger that morning was directly proportionate to who was cooking. As he didn't believe Renedghen to be back from Ulduar yet, it was likely he would have "ate at home" again.

"Just great, really, Iyo," Ed mumbled, his mouth full of breakfast and his face a tad green.

The Tauren turned around from the cooking table, cookbook in hand and grinned. He had managed to find an apron (proclaiming that everyone should "Bow to the Chef") and a large, white, poofy hat. Iyo wielded the spatula like a weapon and had a splot of greenish-white paste near his left eyebrow.

"You be lucky ya be commutin' from da Undacity, mon. Iyo been doin' all da cookin' since Friday," Zeb made a face and slapped Vora on the back. "C'mon den. Le's be gettin' dis ova wit."

"Vora! Zeb!" The Tauren looked overjoyed to find more people to cook for. "How many sungrass pancakes can I sign you up for?"

The two were about to make their excuses when Ovaan came bounding down the stairs. "I'm starved!" he announced and the gleam in Iyo's eye was nearly manic. "Iyo can I get two… eh… make it three stacks of pancakes?" The Tauren turned back to the stove and began to mix up more batter. Ed, knowing an opportunity when he sees one, slid the remainder of his breakfast into his rucksack.

Vora settled himself in at his usual spot, across from Ovaan, at the long wooden table and tried not to grimace as the elven warrior scarfed down the sungrass pancakes with more enthusiasm than table manners. Zeb had sat himself down in his spot, two seats down from the mage, next to Ed and the four of them waited for their commanding officer and the news of their next posting.

Leda was the last to arrive at the breakfast table, which by that time would be more aptly named the lunch table. Wahkan had wandered down from his quarters near the top of the tower nearly an hour earlier and he and Vora were busy discussing the merits of totem-based casting over spoken-word casting when Leda's hooves could be heard on the stairs.

Conversations around the table halted for a moment, their curiosity getting the better of them, before starting up again. Leda wouldn't brief them before her own breakfast, regardless of the hour at which she ate it. Iyo reached for his poofy hat, but Leda held up her hand. "Are there vegetables in the pancakes?"

"Don't you want to try them before you judge them on their ingredients?" Iyo asked innocently.

His sister sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "Are there… vegetables… in the pancakes?"

"Jus-"

"I'll eat with Fuso."

Iyo unfolded the parchment carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles before he began to read aloud:

'The 43rd Battlegroup, lead by General Leda Savagedawn, is required to meet with Lieutenant Gor'hek in Ratchet by sundown tomorrow' - "Which I guess is today," Iyo added - 'and assist him in the clearing of the Horde's main shipping lane to Grom'gol.

Lok'tar Ogar!

Thrall'

Leda peeked out of their door, searching for the sun's position across the afternoon sky. "Pack up, we'll move out in an hour. Should be a short mission."

It was only a three hour ride from the capital to Ratchet, but Vora could have sworn it took nearly twice as long. The Barrens in the middle of the afternoon was hot, full of flies and slightly smelly. He wasn't sure where the smell came from - the sweat from their menagerie of mounts, the sweat from his comrades or the "waste" from the local fauna - but whatever it was, it reeked.

They set up camp on the outskirts of the little goblin town while Leda went to look for this Lieutenant Gor'hek. Vorastrix grinned to himself as she made a beeline for the local drinking establishment. If the Orc in charge was to be found anywhere, it was most likely behind a large mug of ale.

"Vora, could you pass me that thingy?" The little mage turned to see his elven counterpart holding up a tent pole and straining to reach the accompanying peg.

"Sorry Sei, I guess my mind wandered off for a second there. Don't worry, I found it," he chuckled to himself and set the peg properly. Around him, several other tents had popped up, including the plain canvas one that Zeb'rinnu and Ovaan would share and the dark canvas painted with tribal symbols for Wahkan and Edmont. Iyo and Leda's tent remained rolled up next to his feet while the Tauren read a suspiciously thin tome on the Kal'dorei industrial revolution. Vora, having finished helping Sei with their tent, settled in near Iyotanka, figuring he'd have a good spot for the fallout that would occur when Iyo's twin arrived to find their tent not set up.

After dinner and a show (Leda never disappointed) the 43rd turned in and Vora volunteered to take the first watch, as usual. Having shared a tent with Sei on numerous occassions, the Forsaken knew from experience that as soon as the elf's head hit his silken pillow the snoring would begin. If he was going to be up anyway, Vora figured he might as well be up near the fire doing something productive.

It was two hours into his watch before anything other than the fire moved. Sei's snoring had tapered off only a few minutes ago and the eerie stillness of their camp made Vora feel uneasy. From their camp's location, chosen strategically by Zeb'rinnu earlier that afternoon, the mage had a clear view of Ratchet and the surrounding bay. For the past two hours, Vora enjoyed a pristine view of a moonlit bay surrounded by palm trees. Other than the usual stench of the Barrens, it was paradise.

Until something moved. Vora had only caught it out of the corner of his eye, but something in the postcard-like scene was not the same. He waited and if he had any would have been holding his breath. After another three minutes, something else moved. The mage crept around the fire to get a better look at the bay and sure enough, something was lazily moving through the water. A tentacle rose above the surface, flailed about in the air for a few seconds and then landed with a faint splash.

He stood perched at the edge of their cliff, squinting to get a better look in the dim light. Sure enough, another long, wiggly appendage playfully whipped through the air. Sea monsters, it had to be sea monsters. Vora sighed and crept over to the druids' tent. He lifted the flap slowly - it felt odd to be disturbing their privacy - and a blast of cold air hit his face. The mage was impressed and a little intrigued by the coolness of their tent, but quickly remembered why he was in here in the first place.

"Pst! Leda!" he whispered. "Leda?" She growled low in her throat, which he thought sounded odd coming from a Tauren. "Leda, it's a cephalopod."

"That word has way too many syllables, Vora," she mumbled into her pillow.

"A marine invertebrate with tentacles and the ability to squirt ink."

"Still too many syllables Iyo."

"I think it's a squid!"

"In the morning, Vora. No ships until tomorrow evening."

The mage slipped back out of the tent into the hot, humid night and wandered back toward the entirely unnecessary fire. He spent the rest of his watch cataloguing spells that would be useful against such a beast.

The sounds and smells of breakfast woke Vora up the next morning. As usual he had slept late and would likely be enjoying a cold breakfast. Ovaan had relieved him only six hours earlier and had grimly confirmed that Vora's eyes were not playing tricks on him. The mage helped himself to scrambled eggs and bacon and nodded along as the warrior described the tentacles in the water.

"The longest one must've been at least… what would you say Vora, 15 feet long?" Vora nodded in response, his mouth full of nearly cold eggs. "Not sure how big these things get, but it could've definitely taken down a ship." Vora nodded again, dabbing his mouth politely with his handkerchief.

Leda sighed, rubbing her forehead. Strategy wasn't really her thing. Vora guessed that if Leda were a more forceful leader, they would end up running in head first regardless of their enemy or objective. Save the magistrix from her demon captors? Run in and hit it! Deliver supplies to the front lines? Run in and hit it! Luckily, their commander was never far from her brother or their stalwart hunter. Between the two, a sound strategy would be carefully developed, usually with much scribbling in the sand.

Said scribbling had already begun and Wahkan, Zeb and Iyo crouched off to the side using small rocks, sticks and a piece of bruiseweed which Vora assumed represented the kraken. He was curious which rock he was and hoped that it was the one furthest from the bruiseweed. For some reason all those legs…. arms… whatever, creeped him out. The finely carved owl figurine was obviously Iyo and the moonkin was currently making it fly over the crude map and humming to himself.

Vora looked back toward the now peaceful bay with its gently rippling waves and bright summer sun. He shuddered to think of the monster that lurked beneath its idyllic depths.

Vora knew his job. His rock was not the one in the back (that was Zeb, the lucky duck) but it was the lumpy one near the front next to a bright purple gem, which Vora was certain had not been there a moment ago.

"Ok Vora, so you and Meredyth will blast the first tentacle you see, got it?"

"I think we've go-"

"You can count on us Iyo!" Vora frowned as the shadow-y purple mess interrupted him, but he said nothing. He was positive that she wasn't there when he finished breakfast, but no one else seemed to notice. An ear shattering roar jolted his bones and the mage knew Leda had shifted into a bear and it was time to begin.

The bear waddled down the hill, along with Ed and Ovaan, who, for once, seemed to be chatting easily. Ed swung his mace at his side, using it like a croquet mallet to hit a rock down the hill while Leda ran joyfully ahead. The whole unit seemed to treat the assignment like a joke. Vora sighed and followed Meredyth down to the beach. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring mid-day sun to spot Seishougen, Zeb'rinnu, Wahkan and Iyo on a cliff overlooking the bay. In the blink of an eye the Tauren was gone and replaced with a dark raven.

It was time.

Iyo flew up and Vora squinted to see the tiny dot of a druid against the bright sun. He flew down slowly, warily, close… too close to the water. Vora's grip tightened on his staff and next to him Meredyth watched with a bored expression. His eyes scanned the faintly rippling waves for any sign of movement. "Rackin' frackin' wind." And then it all happened at once. The spell on the tip of his tongue was already flying toward the tentacle, streaking the sky with orange sparks. Iyo managed to dodge the first tentacle and then a second appeared only to be engulfed in the tell-tale purple void of colour of Meredyth's favourite curse. Unwilling to tempt fate, Iyo rejoined the trolls on the cliff and the beast itself raised its ugly head.

Its skin was a pale, sunless yellow-pink and its eyes pointed in two different directions. The kraken screamed in agony as the spells connected with its longest tentacles and the high pitched squeal caused Vora to fumble his next spell. Eight shorter tentacles shot up from the sea in anger and the beast flung them around in vain trying to find its attackers.

On the dock, Leda, Edmont and Ovaan were busy trying to catch its attention and the beast darted toward them with surprising speed. A tentacle landed across the dock, splitting the end from the beach and the three darted back to safety. Ovaan managed to bury his axe in it before the tentacle slithered away, but it only angered the beast further. A second tentacle sprouted up from nowhere and wrapped itself around the bear. Before either of the Sunstriker brothers could react, Leda was flung up into the air. Vora could hear Iyo's angry yell from down on the beach, but Seishougen was the first to react. Six crisp frosty spells were fired off in quick succession, nearly completely incapacitating one of the eight tentacles.

Spells, arrows and even throwing daggers whisked through the air, taking out another tentacle. Vora panicked as suddenly the bear stopped fighting and reverted back into their Tauren commander. Leda had lost consciousness. Iyo's rage was palpable and the very heavens seemed to rain down on the beast. The kraken missed Iyo (somehow), but Sei was not so lucky.

Vora's mind raced with spells, trying to find one to free Leda or Sei or to take out the beast itself. He looked at Meredyth and the shadow-y purple Forsaken… thing… looked back at him and shrugged. The mage sighed, gathered his strength and teleported.

He was momentarily disoriented and disgusted at the same time. Vora could feel it … moving and wiggling. He shuddered and carried on his way brandishing his staff as if it were a polearm. There! The eye! The Forsaken carefully crept toward the glistening… slimy… Best not to think about it. His staff struck into it easily regardless of how it looked. The beast squealed, dropped its victims and all eight tentacles converged on the mage's location, perched atop the kraken's forehead. He abandoned the staff with one last glance and popped back to the beach, where he promptly lost consciousness.

On her left, in a sparkling mess of arcane magic, Vora landed in a crumpled heap. Meredyth nodded, but didn't move to help him. The little Forsaken would be no worse for wear if he lay there a little while longer. The monster, now blind on one side, was flailing desperately and Edmont and Ovaan had managed to capture its attention.

Up on the cliff, Zeb was the only one left, but instead of his bow singing, he was hastily cobbling together arrow shafts and fletchings. Iyo would be in the water already, desperately attempting to drag his unconscious twin to the shore. Wahkan too had jumped into the water and was running swiftly across the waves. Meredyth was incredibly impressed as the shaman managed to coax the waters into depositing the elven mage on the beach next to the Forsaken one. Calmly she dodged another tentacle and turned back toward the injured beast.

She knew her orders and the mission. Chromie had been particularly adamant that the beast must die to cement the group together. But was Meredyth herself of the group? The only two still fighting were the Sunstrikers and neither would be able to get close enough to deliver the killing blow. Would it be her all along? The beast lunged again and a wayward tentacle swept the elves off the broken dock. It would have to be her.

Meredyth took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Concentrating, she could feel the discharged magic in the air. The tang of arcane, the warm caress of fire and the bitterness of frost were all there and she pulled them in. The shadow that swirled around her petite form grew larger and darker, less purple and more the absence of any colour at all. Calmly she opened her eyes, grinned at the kraken and a long purple bolt arced through the afternoon sky toward the monster.

Later, when questioned by Leda, Wahkan described the squid's death like "da beast were cooked from da inside. It be sizzlin' an' it be twitchin' and den it swum ova to da beach on da udder side of de dock an' died neatly. Jus' like sum buddy be controllin' it."

When they got back to their barracks the beast's beak and a note were found on the kitchen table. The Steamwheedle Cartel's letterhead was plastered across the top and Iyo's only response was a sigh before he read it aloud:

"Dear The 43rd,

Find below a list of damages and costs to be paid to the Steamwheedle Cartel prior to re-entry into Cartel territory. Your promptness is appreciated.

Item

1536-4 Smashed dock, wooden, 10 ft. …...… 6503g

6954-8 Fallen palm, 6ft ….…... 250g

1200-0 Singed grass, 2ft x 2 ft ...….… 24g

9000-1 Carcass removal, kraken, 214 ft x 52 ft ... 425,821g

Total ... 432,598g

Please direct payment to Gazlowe, Baron of Ratchet."

Leda's nostrils flared and she grabbed the bill, stomping out of their tower in a huff. Ed had finally caught up to the others after stopping to flirt with a priest outside the auction house. He picked a couple of fried calamari out of his dark locks, inspecting the little squid. "I guess word got out about the kraken, hey? People been throwing them at me since I left the Valley of Strength." Ovaan picked a third out of his brother's hair and popped it into his mouth.

Meredyth, who Vora again could swear wasn't there when they arrived at the tower, drifted down from the second level. "Looks like you could use a new tabard," she grinned, pointing out the rather boring splash of red across a black background.

Zeb grinned widely, "I gotta idea, Leda'mon. You be lovin' it." A long bolt of teal silk appeared from inside his pack and before anyone could say anything, he was busy measuring Leda for a new tabard.


End file.
